


Flight Into Egypt 4:  Games

by Vickiemoseley



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 19:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16290044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vickiemoseley/pseuds/Vickiemoseley
Summary: An early fall afternoon, a parish picnic, a





	Flight Into Egypt 4:  Games

**Author's Note:**

> The response to the first three

Title: Flight Into Egypt 4: Games  
Author: Vickie Moseley   
Summary: An early fall afternoon, a parish picnic, a   
baseball game, what could possibly go wrong?  
Category: A MT RST babyfic  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: I'm not infringing. 10-13 could never   
think of this as a solution. But if they want to   
give it a try, I'm willing to share.  
Archives: yes  
Author notes: The response to the first three   
stories in this series really was overwhelming. I'm   
very grateful to everyone who has written and   
encouraged me. See what you've done? Bet you're   
thinking 'Oh NO! I've created a monster!', right?   
Well, I have more news. This is leading somewhere.   
Keep watching. And thanks for everything. And   
special thanks to Deb, who believes in the work even   
when she doesn't approve of it ;) and to Ten for fast   
beta services!  
Comments always appreciated:   
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Flight Into Egypt 4: Games  
By Vickie Moseley  
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Just one more hill, one bend in the road and he could   
see the house. Mulder smiled and pushed a little   
harder, breaking into a grin at the squeal of delight   
from his passenger.

Playing 'rickshaw driver' was more fun than he'd ever   
imagined. He'd seen mothers and fathers pushing   
those jogging strollers as they ran in the park near   
his apartment in Arlington, but he'd always assumed   
it was more trouble than it was worth. 

When Scully had surprised him with one of the   
strollers for Father's Day, he'd been dubious, at   
best. But after just one run, it became the morning   
ritual. He would get up at the first ray of sunlight   
through their window. William was usually just   
rubbing his eyes when he'd whisk him out of his crib   
and change him. A quick bottle to tide over a tiny   
stomach and they were on the road.

The mountains surrounding their little house were   
spectacular, but they were really in a valley of   
sorts. There were plenty of stretches of land with   
just a gentle rise. A little farther out, the road   
started a steeper stretch and Mulder used that length   
of his run to get his cardio moving, hit his runner's   
high. On the way back, he was flying, and so was   
William, who loved every moment of it. At times,   
Mulder would imagine a few years down the line, when   
father and son could run this stretch together. It   
gave him hope.

Scully was awake and waiting for them as they trotted   
up the driveway.

"You're going to turn him into a NASCAR driver," she   
said dryly.

"Move over Jeff Gordon," Mulder panted and took the   
bottle of water she offered him, draining half of it   
in one gulp. "Showered and dressed so early. What   
memo did I miss?"

"It's the 24th," she said, giving him a clue.

"Yeah, and it's Saturday. So?"

She sighed. "Church picnic. Games. You, me,   
William. Enough potato salad to feed the Montana   
National Guard?"

Mulder slapped his head. "The picnic! I'd almost   
forgotten!"

"Well, it's a good thing I didn't forget. You can't   
cook 10 pounds of potatoes in a couple of minutes,   
even with an extra large microwave," she said,   
ruffling his hair as she walked past him, scooping up   
their son and taking him inside with her.

"I better get my equipment," Mulder said and jogged   
up the stairs and down the hall to the closet in the   
office. There, a brand new wooden Louisville Slugger   
bat waited next to a brand new leather fielders   
glove, still smelling strongly of the glove oil   
Mulder had been lovingly caressing it with for the   
past five nights. Scully, at one point, had remarked   
that if he paid half as much attention to rubbing her   
back as he was that glove, she would be very   
grateful. The comment resulted in a 'hot oil/bubble   
bath' session that lasted from ten minutes after   
William was asleep till the wee hours of the morning   
but neither one of them complained about the lack of   
sleep the next day.

He hoisted the bat on his shoulder, glove under his   
arm, snagged his Yankees cap off the shelf above the   
computer and placed them all in easy reach at the top   
of the stairs. Then he went into the bathroom for a   
quick shower, changed into jeans and his newly   
acquired Yankees 'official' jersey and headed down to   
the kitchen.

"My god, I thought we were going for the day, not   
moving in!" he exclaimed when he saw the amount of   
paraphernalia his wife had deposited by the back   
door. She greeted him at the door to the kitchen, a   
rather awkward and obviously heavy Coleman cooler in   
her arms. "Dana, they have wheels on these things   
for a reason," he scolded and took the cooler from   
her, setting it on the ground so he could pull it by   
the handle to the door. 

"That should go in first," she directed. "It's OK to   
pile stuff on top of it. I don't want anything to   
accidentally prop open the lid. The last thing we   
need is to poison an entire church picnic," she   
muttered.

"I'm skipping the potato salad," Mulder muttered to   
himself.

"I heard that," Scully tossed over her shoulder as   
she lifted the portable playpen and an overstuffed   
diaper bag and opened the screen door. "Lift that   
barge, tote that bail," she ordered.

They'd been working for several minutes when Mulder   
finally closed the back hatch of the Explorer.   
"Nothing else will fit," he assured her. 

"Well, that's everything, I think," Scully commented,   
heading to the passenger side door. "Why do I have   
this feeling that we've forgotten something?"

They both jerked their heads up in unison.   
"William!" Scully was the first up the steps, but   
Mulder's longer legs overtook her and he beat her   
into the kitchen. Sitting on the floor, surrounded   
by his mother's plastic bowls and lids, was their   
son, laughing and beating on an overturned mixing   
bowl with a wooden toy hammer. Mulder started   
breathing again at the sight of their baby. 

"Hey, big guy, want to go to a picnic?" he cooed,   
getting his breathing under control. William happily   
clutched at his arms and wiggled in compliance.   
"Good, let's go."

"How could we . . .?" Scully was still looking   
shell-shocked. 

"The point is we didn't, Dana. Relax. And for the   
record, I really don't think we're the first parents   
who have almost forgotten the kid. As a matter of   
fact, I'd be more concerned if we didn't have   
something like that happen."

Scully was not to be dissuaded. "No, we're getting   
careless. That was incredibly stupid, leaving him in   
the kitchen. What was I thinking?" She was biting   
her lip and he was not at all happy with the guilt   
and frustration he saw in her eyes.

He shifted William to his other hip and pulled her to   
his chest. "Dana, we're not being careless. We've   
never left him alone or even with anyone else since   
we came here. He's never out of our sight. You know   
we would have figured it out the minute no one was   
'singing' as we pulled out of the driveway. The   
little guy has his own alarm system, ya know," he   
chuckled. Her eyes were still hooded, she wasn't   
giving an inch. So much his Scully, he sighed   
inwardly.

He pulled her head toward him so that it rested   
against his chest. "Dana, we have to get past this.   
We're safe here. I feel it more and more every day.   
We can't afford to forget our past, but I don't think   
we have to worry every second of every day. We both   
know that's counterproductive, too."

After a minute, she nodded reluctantly. 

"That's my woman," he said and placed a kiss on the   
crown of her head. "Now, if we don't move out soon,   
that ice will melt and we're going to be handing out   
e coli at the picnic."

"Bite your tongue," she said and shoved him toward   
the door.

The picnic was at a park just outside Mt. Airy. It   
was built in a large meadow tucked in among a   
forested area. There was a shelter with a dozen or so   
tables and benches, open on three sides with a   
massive stone fireplace taking up the fourth side.   
Nearby, within earshot, was a playground equipped   
with swingsets, sandboxes and a fairly new piece of   
multipurpose climbing and sliding equipment. Some of   
the swings were bucket style for smaller children.   
On the other side was a baseball diamond, complete   
with one set of bleachers.

Mary C. and Joe were already at the shelter. Mary C   
was shaking out old white sheets to act as makeshift   
tablecloths. Dana promptly offered to help. Mulder   
was holding William when the Hawthorne's daughter   
Megan broke away from her brothers on the playground   
and came running to greet them.

"Liam! Hey, Liam. Remember me, Megan?" she cooed at   
William. Remembering her manners, she smiled up at   
Mulder. "Hi, Mr. Hale," she said shyly.

"Hi, Megan. Here, want a prom date?" Mulder teased   
and handed the baby over to the teenager. 

She grinned broadly. "Oh, I think I'm gonna have to   
stand in line to get a dance with this guy. He's got   
killer eyelashes, Mrs. Hale," she said to Dana, but   
her attention was focused completely on the little   
boy in her arms. "Hey, Liam, want to go over and   
play in the sandbox?" She looked over at Dana for   
silent permission. 

Dana bit her lip and looked longingly over to the   
playground. She jumped slightly when Mulder cleared   
his throat and caught her eye. With one look they   
communicated an entire conversation, the one they'd   
had just that morning at the car. Dana squared her   
shoulders as if preparing for battle, but gave Megan   
a smile. "Sure, why not. But take his shoes off, if   
you don't mind."

Megan sensed her hesitancy. "I'll watch him really   
close, Mrs. Hale. Don't you worry!" They were off   
before Dana could reply. She watched them for a   
minute until a hand touched her arm.

"She's might gripe about her own siblings, but   
Meggie's great with babies, Dana. He'll be fine."   
Mary C. gave her an understanding smile.

Dana nodded and then brought herself back to the task   
at hand. "So, what should we do next? Put out the   
non-perishables?"

Joe and Mulder had watched the whole scene. As soon   
as Megan had taken the baby, Mulder went over to help   
Joe get the charcoal arranged in the park's three   
large barbeque grills.

"It's always hard to let 'em go," Joe said with a   
knowing look. "You know, if you two ever want to get   
away for a while, maybe take a day and go up to   
Helena, just let us know. We'd be happy to baby-sit   
the little guy."

Mulder shrugged. "I'll mention it to Dana. But   
we're pretty much homebodies."

Joe looked at him and for a moment Mulder thought he   
saw a flash of something. Suspicion? But it was   
quickly replaced by an affable smile. "Well, before   
long he'll be hitting those terrible twos and you'll   
_want_ to get away," he joked and went back to   
constructing a tower of charcoal in one of the   
grills. "So, did you get the mitt you ordered?"

Mulder was happy to change the subject. "Yeah, came   
Monday. I've been working it all week."

"The internet," Joe sighed contentedly. "Makes up   
for being without a good sporting goods store, that's   
for sure!"

"You said the teams were already chosen?" Mulder   
asked, mimicking Joe's charcoal building style in the   
last grill.

"Yeah. It's a St. Jude's Parish Picnic tradition.   
Basically, a bunch of us played ball back in high   
school. And most of our boys are either Little   
League or play ball for the high school now. So it's   
old timers versus young studs." He eyed Mulder   
appraisingly and then grinned. "You get to be an   
'old timer'."

Mulder took the hit gracefully. "Gee, thanks. I   
think. So I get to play right field?"

Joe nodded. "Unless Terry Buck's hip replacement got   
rescheduled. Then we might need you at second base.   
Ever played second?"

Mulder nodded. "Once or twice."

"You'll do fine. Just remember to duck. We have   
some heavy hitters among the kids."

Mulder grinned. "Oh, I'll be careful."

By 11:30 the shelter was filled with families. The   
three long tables that Mary C. and Dana had set to   
hold the food were overflowing with delicious looking   
dishes. Joe had pressed another parishioner, Mel   
Rinnus, and Mulder into helping him 'man' the grills   
and before long a mountain of hamburgers, hot dogs   
and chicken burgers were steaming on the end of one   
of the groaning tables.

"Padre," Joe called. "Better say a quick grace and   
move out of the way. You're liable to get trampled,"   
he warned.

"It won't take a second, Joe and the food will taste   
all the better for it," Father Daly teased right   
back. "In the Name of the Father and the Son . . ."

Mulder watched Dana take their son's hand and help   
the little one make the sign of the Cross, then bowed   
his head as the prayer began. He couldn't help   
thinking of their conversation of the morning. Yes,   
he did feel safe in this place, among these people.   
But maybe Scully was right. They were still very   
much strangers, very much alone. It felt good to   
forget all the danger they'd lived for so long, but   
the danger was still there, waiting for them to slip   
up.

" . . . and the Holy Spirit. Amen," Father intoned   
and then with a bright smile, called out "Let's eat!"

The food was served buffet style and families with   
small children were pushed to the front of the line.   
Mulder soon found himself balancing three plates   
while Scully had William on her hip and was carrying   
two paper cups of iced tea back to where they were   
sharing a picnic table with the Hawthorne's. The   
Hawthorne children had found a table with other   
friends from school, leaving just the adults and   
William. There was pleasant conversation in between   
mouthfuls of wonderful picnic food. A second trip   
down the tables was made to take advantage of the   
plentiful dessert selection.

While they ate, Joe pointed out the various   
'teammates' from the assembled crowd. As far as   
Mulder could see, most of the 'old timers' were men   
not unlike Joe, between 40 and 50 years of age,   
spreading comfortably in the middle, not an athlete   
among them. It dawned on him finally why Joe was so   
anxious to get him in the game. Mulder was the   
designated ringer. After a quick glance at the 15 or   
so teenagers and younger men, all of whom looked like   
they ran or did some form of exercise, that   
revelation took on an ominous feel. Without him, the   
old guys would get creamed. Even with him, it still   
wasn't looking good.

After the tables were cleared, Dana found a shady   
spot under a nearby oak tree, laid out the blanket   
she'd packed that morning and convinced a very sleepy   
William to settle in for a much needed nap.

Mulder had volunteered to help with the garbage   
detail. Four other men joined him in hauling the   
remains of the meal to a 'raccoon and bear proof'   
dumpster near the road. When he finished washing his   
hands in the water pump near the shelter, drying them   
on the seat of his jeans, he stumbled over to the   
blanket and collapsed with a groan.

"I warned you about that German chocolate cake," she   
chided affectionately as he groaned again, this time   
just to get her attention.

"It wasn't the cake. It was the Texas brownie I ate   
on the way to the dumpster," he moaned and rolled   
over on his side, propping his head on his hand.   
"He's out!" he said with a grin, watching their   
sleeping son.

"Like a light." Dana grinned. "Not even a peep. He   
just shut down."

"It's the fresh air," Mulder said as he rolled back   
over on his back and closed his eyes. "Makes   
everyone feel . . . sleepy . . ." In a second, she   
knew he was asleep.

"And a full tummy might have something to do with   
it," she whispered, watching over her tired men.

She leaned against the tree and let her eyes wander   
over the beauty of the early fall afternoon. The   
leaves were just starting to turn, the sun was warm   
but under the tree there was a definite chill to the   
breeze. She pulled a blanket out of the diaper bag   
and covered the baby, tucking it around his little   
body. He'd grown so much since they'd been reunited.   
Their time apart seemed like a bad dream, like so   
much of the heartache of the last two years. 

Whenever she had a chance to relax, she thought about   
what they'd left behind. Skinner, her mother, how   
were they fairing? She wondered what her brother   
Bill would think about Mulder shouldering his share   
of the family duties, taking on childcare like he was   
born to it. She wished that she could let the people   
they'd left behind see how very happy the three of   
them were at that very moment.

The sun made its journey across the sky, bringing a   
pleasant warmth when the shade of the tree moved away   
from her, but still covered Mulder and the baby. A   
shadow fell across her feet, causing her to look up,   
squint and shield her eyes.

"It's time," Joe said firmly. He was standing there   
with a bat swung across his shoulders, a catcher's   
mitt under his arm, a baseball in his right hand.

"He's still asleep, Joe," she said, nodding to the   
gently snoring man just a few feet from her. Scully   
had also noted the possible players and had almost   
asked Mulder to refrain from the game. She knew he   
would never agree to that, so letting him sleep   
through it was the next best option.

"The hallowed game of baseball waits for no man,   
Dana," Joe said seriously.

"Tell that to the owners and the players next time   
they consider a strike," came a mutter from the   
formerly sleeping man.

"C'mon, hot shot. The team needs you," Joe said,   
walking over to kick at Mulder's sneaker. 

"It is still over 30 versus under 30?" Mulder asked,   
not moving an inch from his supine position on the   
blanket, eyes still closed.

"Yup," Joe replied, flashing Scully a mischievous   
grin.

"We're gonna get our butts kicked," Mulder told him,   
finally cracking one eye open to glare at the man   
towering above him.

"More'n likely," Joe agreed and offered his hand to   
help Mulder up.

"As long as we know where we stand," Mulder said with   
a groan and got to his feet with only minor   
assistance from Joe.

"Be careful," Scully told him with a fearful   
expression. 

"It's baseball, Dana. A non-contact sport. I'll   
probably end up with a couple of pulled muscles, but   
I'll be fine," he assured her and leaned over to give   
her a quick 'good luck' kiss before leaving with Joe   
to go warm up.

Playing catch with Mel and Joe, Mulder thought back   
to the last time he and Scully had played baseball.   
Last time, first time, only time. A star lit field   
at a DC park, a nice piece of ash, it was a very fond   
memory. But in all their time together, with the   
exception of waiting for him to finish a pick up   
basketball game at the gym before running off to   
chase some mutant, he couldn't remember a time she'd   
ever just watched him play. Mulder never felt the   
need to prove himself to his partner of 10 years.   
Prove his theories, yes, but not his athletic   
prowess. He joked about it, but it would still be   
fun to hit a double, show her what he could do on   
this field of play. Now that their relationship was   
quite firmly on solid ground, he could afford a few   
moments of 'caveman behavior'. 

By the time both sides had warmed up sufficiently to   
avoid serious back strain, according to the town's   
chiropractor and pitcher for the old guys, William   
was awake and chattering. He kept squirming in   
Dana's arms, his eyes planted on the playground.   
Megan timidly offered to take him again and tamping   
down any anxiety, Scully agreed. Then Mary C. and   
Dana found seats in the bleachers to watch the game.

"Father's the umpire. Absolutely _no one_ argues   
with his calls," Mary C. said with a delighted gleam   
in her eyes. "And he's blind as a bat out there."

"Oh, great," Scully said with a smirk.

"It's usually better for our side than their side.   
What altar boy is going to stand there and tell their   
priest it was a ball and not a strike?"

Dana chuckled and settled in to watch the game, a   
little more relaxed. It was a church picnic, not   
chasing down a serial killer. She could handle this.   
Besides, she noted to herself, Mulder's jeans fit him   
very nicely and it was fun to sit on the bleachers   
and know that all the other wives were eyeing the guy   
you were taking home.

Terry's hip replacement had been rescheduled, as Joe   
had warned, so Mulder was at second base. It took   
him no time at all to settle in to the position. The   
young guys managed to win first at bat and got one   
runner across home plate before grounding out.   
Mulder waved to Scully in the stands, a confident   
look on his face.

In the second inning, Mulder hit a double straight   
out. Mel got across the plate to a round of cheers   
from his teammates and offers for a beer after the   
game. Someone on the bench offered Mulder a beer if   
he made it home. He waved them off with a smile.   
Glancing over at the bleachers, he caught Scully's   
eye. She mouthed 'nice piece of ash' at him and he   
ground his foot into the base, beaming his pride.

Joe followed with a single and Mulder decided to   
steal home. Since he'd been running every morning   
for the last six weeks in mountainous terrain, the 90   
feet from third base to home plate was nothing, but   
he was racing the strong arm of Josh Hawthorne, star   
second baseman for the Mt. Airy Eagles. It was a   
photo finish, but Father declared Mulder safe and the   
crowd went wild.

Wiping sweat off his face with the sleeve of his   
jersey, Mulder practically strutted back to the   
bench, amid cheers and more beer offers from his   
teammates.

"Oh brother," Dana muttered, but couldn't quite get   
the proud smile off her face.

"He'll be reliving that one for a few days, I'd say,"   
Mary C. nodded in agreement. "Want stay at our house   
for a week?"

"No, I'm used to it, but thanks for the offer," Dana   
replied with a grin.

The game was getting serious by the bottom of the   
fifth. The young studs, as they called themselves,   
were up by one run and already the 'classics' (a name   
one of the wives had pinned on the old timers) had   
lost their first baseman to a pulled hamstring.   
Another player was recruited from the bleachers and   
the game continued, but everyone was beginning to   
feel the heat of the day, an unseasonable 85 degrees   
in mid September.

Mulder jeered with the rest of the team when Joe was   
tagged at second and the Classics had to take the   
field again. He jogged over to second, snapping a   
wad of gum and doing the mental calculations to   
remember who would be coming up to bat first. The   
young studs were as good as he thought they would be.   
From what he'd seen on the field of play, some of the   
younger guys could be playing college ball. One or   
two might have held their weight in the minors, if it   
were not for parents demanding at least a bachelor's   
degree before they became Hall of Famers. 

Mulder smiled. Maybe some day William would be out   
here, on a bright September afternoon, playing   
against him. Of course, Mulder's more rational side   
reminded him that he'd be pushing 60 when that   
happened, but if he managed to keep running, didn't   
fall into a sedentary lifestyle, it could still   
happen. If they managed to stop that pesky alien   
invasion, of course, the rational side interjected   
again.

To say he was slightly distracted would be   
disrespectful to the force of the hit as the ball   
came off the bat of Joe's son, Josh. Josh had been   
showing himself to be a heavy hitter all day, but   
this one seemed to come straight out of nowhere. A   
line drive, right over the right shoulder of the   
pitcher, headed straight and unerringly toward the   
head of the second baseman, who was at that exact   
moment fairly deep in thought. A startled cry was   
heard from the bleachers as one female voice screamed   
out "Mulder!" and then the air carried the sound of a   
baseball, traveling at speeds in excess of 150 miles   
per hour, hitting and glancing off the not too thick   
bone at the temple of a man standing 6 foot 1.   
Mulder went down like a giant sequoia.

Dana didn't even notice if her feet were hitting   
wooden bleachers or human flesh as she raced down to   
the field. Muttering every curse she could remember   
and some she just made up, she plowed through the   
throng of team members from both sides. Joe had   
gotten to him first, because he was kneeling right   
next to Mulder.

"Dana," Joe said helplessly, but Scully pushed the   
man aside, to kneel next to her fallen partner. 

She didn't even look up, her eyes were busy examining   
Mulder. His pulse was strong at his wrist, airway   
was clear, but he was unconscious and blood was   
dripping down his face at his hairline. The ball had   
hit him at the temple, just on the opposite side from   
where a bullet had grazed him four years before. She   
lifted one eyelid and then the other, confirming her   
suspicion. Concussion, and possibly a bad one   
considered the force of the ball and the point of   
impact. 

Mentally working out the details of transport, she   
looked up as she heard Joe using his satellite cell   
phone to call an ambulance. She grabbed his hand.   
"No, just instruct them that we're on the way. Tell   
them to put X ray on standby and we'll need a   
neurological consult. We don't have time to wait for   
an ambulance, he may have a intracranial hemorrhage.   
We'll just have to drive like a bat out of hell. all   
the County Sheriff and ask them for an escort to .   
. . damn, where's the nearest trauma unit?"

Joe looked at her, stunned. "Uh, it's in Helena.   
That's about 60 m-miles," he stumbled.

"Still, we could be there faster than even getting a   
chopper here. All right, somebody pull our car   
around. Josh, could you do that?" Scully had looked   
up when she spoke with Joe and noticed that Josh   
Hawthorne wore the expression of a man who'd just   
accidentally killed someone. She knew the 17 year   
old needed something to do to help. Josh accepted   
her keys gratefully and ran as fast as he could to   
the parking area to get the Ford Expedition. 

"Dana, are you sure we don't need to call an   
ambulance?" Joe insisted. "You aren't a doctor," he   
added gently.

"Yes, I am," she hissed. "Joe, trust me on this.   
Just do as I say and it will all be all right."

Joe started to object again, but Josh had pulled the   
SUV on the field next to the crowd of people. Dana   
looked up at Joe and then pointed to a couple of the   
stronger looking young men. "You, and you, you, too,   
I need you to lift him. You need to keep him as   
level as possible, supporting his back and his neck.   
We're lifting on the count of three. One . . . two .   
. . three!" The three men lifted the limp man and   
maneuvered him into the backseat of the car as she   
supervised. It was the absence of the familiar car   
seat that caught Scully's eye.

"William!" she called out and searched frantically   
for Mary C. Joe directed her attention to just   
outside the circle of concerned players and she saw   
that Megan was holding William while Mary C. was   
holding the car seat.

"Joe will drive you to the hospital, he knows the way   
by now. We'll follow with the little guy and meet   
you there," Mary C. called to her. Mary C. gave Dana   
a comforting nod and headed off with Megan to gather   
the rest of the boys and head for Helena. 

Dana turned back to the SUV and climbed in the back   
seat with Mulder. "How fast can you get us there,   
Joe?" she asked.

"Mary C. is never in labor more'n two hours and we   
haven't had a home delivery yet," he told her   
proudly. "You just take care of the patient, leave   
the driving to me."

They'd been on the road less than 20 minutes when   
Mulder started to grow restless. He moaned and   
thrashed, calling out 'Scully', but it sounded more   
like 'Shully'. She shushed him, holding him as best   
she could while she sat scrunched between the front   
seats and the back on the floor of the car. Suddenly   
he opened his eyes and started flailing his arms. 

"He's got a gun, Scully!" he said, as clear   
as day. "Scully, get down!" Then his eyes rolled   
into his head and he fell back limp as a rag doll.

Scully quickly checked his pulse and found it more   
rapid than when she'd last checked. His breathing   
was shallower, as well. He was growing pale and his   
skin temperature was cooler. "Joe, could you push it   
a little?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

"Yeah, sure thing," Joe replied nervously and Scully   
felt the car speed up. Closing her eyes, she prayed   
they'd get to the hospital in one piece. 

It seemed like an eternity, but later when she   
checked her watch they made the 60-mile ride in less   
than 45 minutes and arrived safely. Mulder had not   
regained consciousness again and his pulse felt more   
erratic as they pulled into the emergency room   
driveway. Fortunately, Joe's phone call had alerted   
the ER staff, who were waiting at the doors with a   
gurney and a medical team. Scully waited until   
they'd unloaded Mulder and had him gurney before she   
attempted to extract herself from her crouched   
position between the seats. She started to run after   
the medical team when someone in scrubs grabbed her   
arm. 

"Mrs. Hale, you have to come with me. We need some   
forms filled out," the woman said in a detached,   
professional voice.

Scully was ready to lash out, but caught herself just   
in time. Mulder was being cared for, she could take   
a moment. But before the team disappeared behind a   
set of double steel doors, she called to one of the   
nurses.

"He was semi-conscious enroute. He never regained   
full consciousness. And his pulse and respirations   
have been steadily deteriorating. Check for a   
bleed." Then she turned her attention to the   
admitting nurse, so she missed the disbelieving looks   
she received from the rest of the ER staff.

Scully noted that it took much less time to finish   
admitting paperwork when you had no insurance and   
promised to pay the full amount upon the patient's   
release. In minutes, she was back with Joe, who was   
pacing the waiting room.

"Have Mary C. and the kids made it?" she asked,   
looking around the sparsely populated lounge.

"Not yet, but she's not a lead foot. Especially when   
all the kids are with her. I'm sure they'll be here   
soon." He was standing at the opposite side of the   
room and giving her suspicious looks.

She knew she'd better start explaining, but where to   
begin? And how much should she tell this man who was   
a stranger to them just three months before?

"Joe, you better sit down," Scully suggested and he   
was moving to comply when a young woman in scrubs   
cleared her throat at the doorway. 

"Excuse me, is there someone here for Mr. Hale named   
. . ." she looked down at a chart and frowned. "I   
think he's saying 'Kelly'?"

She shook her head and stepped forward. "No, he's   
saying Scully. And that's me. He's regained   
consciousness?"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. If you would follow   
me, I'll take you back to see him. Maybe you can   
help keep him calm while the doctor finishes with the   
examination."

Scully turned to Joe and gave him an apologetic   
smile. "I better go, he's not the best patient.   
Joe, I promise I'll explain . . ."

"Dana, he needs you now. Don't worry about me. I'll   
watch for Mary C. and the kids. We'll wait here with   
William for as long as you need us." Any suspicious   
thoughts Joe had, he hid them well as he gave her an   
encouraging smile and a 'thumbs up'.

She returned the smile and then headed after the   
nurse.

Mulder was moving his head from side to side,   
mumbling something. His eyes were closed and   
occasionally he would wince in pain. A tall Asian   
man was looking at an x ray on a lighted board and   
frowning. He glanced over at Scully as she entered   
the examining room.

"Are you Kelly?" he asked, sharply.

"No, I'm Dana Hale, and this is my husband. He's   
calling out Scully. That's my maiden name," she   
said, using the excuse she'd dreamed up on the way to   
the cubicle.

The doctor frowned again and then shrugged, holding   
out his hand. "I'm Dr. Chang. Am I to understand   
you asked for a neurological consult?"

"I did," Scully said evenly. "He's had severe trauma   
to the cranium before. I was concerned by the   
reduced level of consciousness. He exhibited   
confusion when he did rouse. I was hoping you'd call   
for a CT scan to rule out intracranial hemorrhage."

Dr. Chang blinked. "Are you certified to practice   
here in Montana?" he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his   
voice.

Scully squared herself off for a fight. "No," she   
admitted. "However, I hold a medical degree and did   
my residency at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore."

Chang nodded, taking that in. "A residency in   
neurology?"

Scully fought down the blush that was threatening to   
rise to her cheeks. "Pathology," she admitted,   
reluctantly.

"Then why don't you let me practice my specialty and   
we can avoid making you practice yours," he said   
curtly. "From his x rays and my initial examination,   
I see no reason to conduct a CT at this time. If   
there is an intracranial bleed, it's minor and will   
more than likely clear up on it's own."

Scully started to bristle, but Chang held up a hand   
to settle her down. "However, I do feel he could   
benefit from a course of meds to reduce the swelling   
in the brain and we will continue to monitor for at   
least 24 hours. If he hasn't regained consciousness   
by morning, or if any of his vital signs deteriorate   
from where they are presently, we'll perform the CT   
scan and determine our next course of action."

Scully wanted to go for the man's throat, or at least   
go for her gun, but she remembered she wasn't wearing   
one. Furthermore, upon some reflection, she realized   
that Dr. Chang was reacting to what he must consider   
a relatively minor injury. Mulder had been struck by   
a baseball, not a gunshot wound to the head. X rays   
had been taken, a licensed neurologist had examined   
him. The course of treatment was not outside what   
she would have agreed to under other circumstances.   
She just would have preferred to take every   
precaution.

Chang must have sensed victory, because his demeanor   
softened. "Mrs. Hale, or rather Dr. Hale, I   
understand how hard it is sit back and watch others   
care for someone you love. But believe me, I have   
your husband's best interests in mind. We will   
monitor his condition closely for the rest of the   
night. If there is any change, the nurses know to   
page me immediately."

She didn't want to like him, especially after he'd   
put her in her place, but she couldn't help herself.   
"Will you be taking him up to a room now?" she asked.

Chang nodded. "I've got him a bed on 3 south. It's   
a step down ward for our surgical unit. They can   
monitor him a little more closely there, but you'll   
be able to stay with him as long as you like. Given   
his confused state and then fact that he keeps   
calling you by your maiden name, he might find it   
easier if the first face he encounters is yours."

"Our son is out in the waiting room with some friends   
of ours. I'd like to let them know what's going on."

"How old?" Chang asked. At her confused look, he   
explained himself. "Your son. How old is he?"

"Sixteen months," Scully answered.

Chang chewed on his lip. "It's a semi-private room   
but I don't think there's anyone else in there right   
now. If you can keep the little guy quiet, there's   
no reason he can't go in and see Dad, too." He   
smiled at Scully's obvious relief. "Hey, I have two   
at home, both under 5. I know what it's like. Just   
try to relax, you may be in for a long night."

She nodded and then offered her hand. "Thank you. I   
do appreciate all the care you've given him." While   
the nurses prepared Mulder for his short journey up   
to his room, Scully left to find the Hawthornes and   
William.

Joe was bouncing a crying William and pacing. Mary   
C. was digging through the diaper back, searching for   
whatever would calm the little guy down. Everyone   
froze when Scully entered the room. Then William   
reached out for his mother and Joe and Mary C.   
breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"How is Ellery?" Mary C. asked as she moved the   
diaper bag off the sofa so Dana could sit down with   
the baby. Once in his mother's arms, he settled   
against her shoulder, stuck his thumb firmly in his   
mouth and drifted off to sleep. Scully rocked him   
slowly as she collected her thoughts.

"He still hasn't regained consciousness. They've   
done x rays and believe there might be a minor, and I   
stress minor, intracranial hemorrhage." At Joe's   
confused glace at Mary C., Scully rushed to explain.   
"He's bleeding in the brain. But it's not quite as   
serious as it sounds. They are treating it with   
medication. That should be enough. They are   
monitoring him very closely and if there is any   
change, they'll operate. But at this point, they   
hope to avoid that."

Mary C. made the sign of the cross and Joe just   
looked very relieved. "Josh is just torn up about   
this," he told her sincerely.

Scully shook her head. "It was not Josh's fault. I   
was watching him. Ellery was daydreaming. It   
happens sometimes and when it does, he usually ends   
up getting hurt. When he wakes him, he'll be the   
first one to tell you that this was all his own   
fault, not Josh." She looked around the room, seeing   
that they were alone. "Where are the kids?"

"Joe got a couple of rooms at the motel across the   
street. We figured you'd need someone nearby to help   
with the baby," Mary C. replied. 

"I've got a couple of questions," Joe said slowly,   
looking straight at Dana. Mary C. frantically tried   
to catch his eye, but he wasn't going to be   
dissuaded. "First of all, Ellery isn't really named   
Ellery, is he?"

Scully drew in a deep lungful of air and let it out   
slowly. This was what she'd been dreading the whole   
evening. But it had to be dealt with. She laid a   
sleeping William on the sofa, sitting in front of him   
so he couldn't roll off and then looked over at Joe   
and Mary C.

"No, he's not. But I don't think you'll believe his   
real name, either," she said with a tired smile.

"Try me," Joe replied seriously, crossing his arms.

"Joe, would you just stop this! Dana is not a   
criminal and you are not going to interrogate her,"   
Mary C. huffed. "He watches way too many episodes of   
'Homicide'," she assured Dana.

Scully shook her head. "No, it's all right, Mary C.   
He's asking a valid question and the two of you   
deserve an answer. My husband's name is really Fox   
Mulder. Up until a year ago, he was my partner in   
the FBI."

"Federal Bureau of Investigation?" Mary C. squeaked   
out. 

"Special Agent, yes," Scully said with a nod.   
"Mulder had been a profiler for years and then ten   
years ago he was assigned to some special cases. I   
was assigned to work with him on those cases."

"What kind of special cases?" Joe asked suspiciously.

Scully smiled. Joe would have been right at home   
with the Gunmen. "Unexplained and unsolved cases.   
Hard cases where normal investigative techniques and   
procedures never gave the right answers." She could   
see by their blank looks that they weren't quite   
getting it. "Some of the cases had paranormal   
aspects," she explained after some hesitation.

Mary C. was still sitting there with a confused look.   
It was Joe who put two and two together. Paranormal.   
Like ghost stories?"

Scully sighed again, this time in exasperation.   
"Well, to be honest, I'm not that much of a believer   
in ghosts. But yes, if you want to give it a broad   
brush, we did our share of 'ghostbusting', as Mulder   
calls it."

"You call him Mulder, he was calling you Scully in   
the car. You said that was your maiden name," Joe   
remembered.

"Scully is my maiden name." She stopped short of   
telling the couple that it was still technically her   
name since she and Mulder weren't legally married.

"So why are you living in Montana, under assumed   
names? And I have to guess you have quite a stash of   
money somewhere," Joe said evenly. Mary C. hit him   
in the leg for his comment, but Joe just kept his   
eyes on Scully.

"It's very complicated," Scully tried to put him off.

"We have time," Joe pointed out. "There are kids   
involved, my kids and your kid. If there's any   
danger here, I think we have the right to know."

Scully's eyes widened and then she nodded. "You may   
not believe all of what I'm going to tell you and I   
have absolutely no evidence to support any of it.   
You'll just have to take my word for it that we never   
wanted to lie to people, we're just trying our best   
to live our lives, OK?"

It took the better part of an hour and a half to   
explain their history to Joe's satisfaction. There   
were still many areas that Scully left blank, but she   
at least let them know that she'd given them the   
details as she'd witnessed them. She glossed over   
the alien parts of the story, concentrating mostly on   
the government conspiracy and Mulder's recent murder   
'trial' and death sentence, which led to their   
escape. She told them about Mulder's abduction   
without going into much and failed to mention his   
death and burial. She avoided telling them about   
William's adoption and his adoptive parents 'deaths',   
but all in all, it was still a tale that many would   
find hard to swallow. When she finished, Joe was   
looking pale and Mary C. seemed to have her hand   
permanently covering her mouth in a look of shocked   
disbelief.

"Well, either you need to be in Hollywood, cranking   
out a series for that idiot FOX network, or you have   
really been through the wringer," Joe told her   
honestly.

"What I've told you really happened. One thing   
Mulder values above all else is the truth, Joe," she   
told him sincerely. 

Joe smiled. "No, I've seen how his eyes light up   
when he talks about you and that little guy," he   
said, pointing at William. "I think there are a   
couple of things that come before the truth."

"So, is . . . 'Mulder' still wanted for murder?" Mary   
C. asked, confused. "Is the military . . . but there   
was no body, no real trial . . . I'm totally   
confused," she admitted finally.

"We don't know. They seem to think we're dead and   
I'd like to keep it that way," Scully answered her.

"But what about your family?" Mary C. pointed out.   
"They must think you're dead, too."

"I know. I miss them, dearly, but there's nothing we   
can do about it. We're trying to keep William safe.   
We just want a normal life," she said, tears choking   
her throat. "We'll probably be leaving soon," she   
added.

Joe had been deep in thought, but he jerked his head   
up at her words. "Why in the name of God would you   
do that? Dana, you're safe here. You are as safe   
now as you're going to be anywhere. This is as   
remote as you can get, believe me, it's why most   
people live up here. Sure as hell isn't for the   
great cable selection," he joked, trying to lighten   
the mood.

Mary C. exchanged a quick smile with Joe and put her   
hand on Scully's arm. "Dana, your secret is safe   
with us. We would never tell anyone."

"But the whole parish saw me. I know I yelled out   
'Mulder' when I saw him go down. I couldn't help it,   
it was reflex," she said with a sigh, wiping at her   
cheeks where the tears were just beginning to make   
tracks.

Mary C. shook her head. "Dana, do you honestly think   
anyone in those bleachers heard you yell 'Mulder'?"   
she chided. "They probably heard 'murder' or 'my   
god' or who knows what. No one was expecting someone   
to get hurt, so they probably weren't paying that   
much attention to what anyone around them was saying,   
or shouting. But we are going to have to explain why   
a doctor has been living under our noses and we can't   
get decent health care in rural areas," she added.

Scully smiled through her tears. "I don't think   
you'd want my specialty anyway. I'm a forensic   
pathologist, a coroner, basically. I couldn't start   
a real practice if I wanted to."

A nurse tapped on the doorway to the lounge, getting   
their attention. "Mrs. Hale, your husband is settled   
in his room now. You can go up and see him."

She nodded and picked up William, who immediately   
snuggled into her shoulder again. "They told me I   
could keep William in the room with me if he doesn't   
cause too much trouble."

Mary C. frowned. "Dana, I know you've been through a   
lot and you don't know us that well, but, well, we're   
still here to help. Why don't you take William up   
for a minute, give yourself a little time together.   
Then we'll take him back to the motel with us until   
morning." 

Dana considered Mary C.'s offer. She still felt she   
could trust these people. And at that moment, she   
needed to trust someone. Slowly, she nodded her   
consent. Mary C. beamed.

"Mind if we take a look in, just for a minute?" Joe   
asked. "Then we can report back to Josh that he's   
not up on murder charges," he joked, then realized   
his obvious faux pas. "Not to say that being up on   
murder charges is a bad thing," he stumbled. "Well,   
it is a bad thing but not if they don't have a body .   
. . ah, hell, you know what I mean," he huffed.

Scully smiled at him and then glanced at the clock on   
the wall. "Good heavens, it's almost midnight!   
C'mon, we're all exhausted. Let's go up, you can see   
for yourself that Mulder's not at death's door and   
you can take William back to the motel. I'll stay   
here tonight. In the morning, when he wakes up, I'll   
give him hell for not keeping his mind on the game,"   
she said with a grin. It was so nice to be able to   
call him 'Mulder' again she thought as the four of   
them headed for the elevators.

"No change, Mrs. Hale. But his vitals are strong,"   
Carrie, the desk nurse told her when they arrived at   
the third floor. "At least the medication seems to   
be working on the swelling," she added with a hopeful   
smile.

"So, you knew exactly what was happening out on the   
ballfield," Joe whispered as they approached the door   
to Mulder's room.

"Let's just say it wasn't a first time experience,"   
Scully said with a rueful expression. "Mulder has a   
. . . unique ability for finding trouble."

"He seems like such a regular guy," Joe said,   
perplexed expression firmly in place. "I mean, he's   
a great second baseman. And that double he scored   
today, wow!"

"Oh, don't get me wrong. Some of our associates   
would love to paint him as a whacked out weirdo, but   
Mulder is just a very smart guy. He loves baseball,   
he's discovered a real affection for burning food   
over propane or even a charcoal fire, all those   
things were a part of him before. He just never had   
the time to explore any of them."

They grew quiet as they stood inside the room.   
Mulder looked like he was sleeping, but Scully knew   
better. He'd had head injuries before, too many for   
her liking. But Carrie had told the truth, the   
monitors near the bed showed that his pulse was   
strong, his heartbeat steady and he was taking in   
enough oxygen on his own. All in all, he was just   
unconscious and she knew that would change when he   
was good and ready.

"Looks like he's gonna have one hell of a black eye,"   
Joe noted, pointing to the discoloration already   
forming on Mulder's high cheekbone.

"Remarkably, he's looked worse," Scully said with a   
smile. 

William woke up and rubbed his eyes, looking around.   
Then the little boy spied Mulder. "Daddy!" he said   
clearly.

"Wouldn't you know it," Scully said with a shake of   
her head. "The first time he says Daddy and his   
father misses it."

"No, I didn't," came a rasped whisper from the bed.   
Scully transferred William to her hip so she could   
lower the rail and sit on the edge of the bed. By   
the time she was situated, Mulder had opened his   
eyes. 

"Oh god, my head hurts," he moaned, slamming his eyes   
shut again.

"Hey, at least he's talking sense, now," Joe said   
happily.

"Joe?" Mulder opened his eyes a crack and then   
settled for a nearly closed squint. Mary C. moved to   
turn down the lights, leaving just the nightlight   
above the bed. "Did we win?"

Joe snorted out a laugh. "Game was called for   
medical emergency. There's always next year," he   
said amiably.

"We coulda been contenders," Mulder said with a tired   
smile. "Hey, big guy. Come see Daddy," he said,   
holding out his arms.

"Mulder," Scully chided, but ended up placing the   
little boy next to his father. William immediately   
curled up on Mulder's shoulder and was soon fast   
asleep again.

"Mulder?" he asked in a hoarse whisper, looking over   
her shoulder to Joe and Mary C.

"You were pretty incoherent on the way here and said   
several things that needed to be explained. I had to   
come clean," Scully answered cryptically.

Mulder closed his eyes in reluctant acceptance.   
"Probably just as well."

"We won't tell a soul, Fox. Honest," Joe said   
solemnly.

"Start by never calling me by that name again, and we   
have a deal," Mulder said with a smile. "We really   
are trying to go by Ellery and Dana."

"You got it," Joe promised. "Hey, let us get this   
little person over to the motel, where he can stretch   
out in a real crib. We'll be back first thing in the   
morning." Joe picked the baby up gently and Mary C.   
leaned over and Mulder a peck on the cheek.

"Sleep well," she told him. "That goes for you,   
too," she directed at Scully. "What does William eat   
for breakfast?"

"Anything that doesn't eat him first," Mulder replied   
with a grin.

"Well, if that includes pancakes at McDonald's, he'll   
be fed before we bring him back," Mary C. said with a   
wink.

As soon as they left, Scully got up from her perch on   
the bed and sat down in the chair. She felt horribly   
guilty, but couldn't quite bring up the subject.

"It would have happened sooner or later," Mulder said   
quietly, picking up her thoughts.

"I just hope I haven't endangered them by telling   
them," Scully said softly. 

"Dana, . . . Scully, everyone thinks we're dead. Our   
names are even listed on the Bureau's website under   
agents killed in the line if duty."

Her head shot up. "You never told me that," she   
accused.

"I figured it would just upset you. But in many   
ways, it helps. If they think we're dead . . ."

"Mom thinks we're dead, too," she said with a hitch   
in her voice.

"I know. I'm sorry. That's another reason I never   
brought it up. But maybe that's the best for her,   
too. If we're dead, your family won't be in danger,   
either." He held his arms out to her and she came to   
him easily. He snuggled her against his side on the   
narrow bed and kissed the crown of her head. "I'm   
sorry. But it does work to our advantage."

"And the Hawthornes? How does their knowing our   
secret work, Mulder?" she asked, burying her face in   
his chest.

"I think it will all work out, Scully. I really   
think it's going to be all right."

The end (for now)


End file.
